


Kisses' progression

by egmon73



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Birthday Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Injury Recovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18802564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egmon73/pseuds/egmon73
Summary: this is for the birthday of our fantastic dragon BRYNTWEDGE!It is difficult to fool a Holmes. Even when it comes to kisses. However, Greg is probably satistied with the achieved result :)





	Kisses' progression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrynTWedge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/gifts).



> This fic has been betaed by Lavender_and_vanilla. Please go to read her fics because they are awesome. English is not my mother tongue, my beta is fantastic and all remaining mistakes are mine.  
> And let's organise a group hug for our resident Dragon!

The first time, it happened probably accidentally. Mycroft arrived at the crime scene to retrieve his brother before John could manage to murder him. Yes, even John had been driven insane by Sherlock’s erratic behaviour and Mycroft knew he had to intervene before his brother’s flatmate decided to move from Baker Street. It would be a catastrophe.

It was raining cats and dogs and the asphalt was covered by mud. Mycroft was internally politely cursing, at the same time trying to avoid stains on his new suit. Luckily his umbrella was of excellent manufacture, but the wind was not cooperating. As soon as DI Lestrade noticed his approach, he started running after him to avoid strangers dominating his murder scene and …tripped, landing against Mycroft’s back. Hot wet lips collided with the Government official’s back of the neck, leaving a phantom burning mark in the genius’ skin. Lestrade profusely apologized, but for sure he did not notice that he had kissed Mycroft’s skin. 

The elder Holmes would never admit that evening he did not want to take a shower because he wanted to cherish the illusory feeling of Gregory’s lips during the whole night.

***

Of all the DIs working for the Met, of course he had to remove the case from the hands of Lestrade because it had become a matter of national importance. The world was conspiring against him, forcing himself to see as often as possible the man who managed to crack his incredibly thick and armoured defences. The only man who was able to make him feel … vulnerable.

He was on the phone barking orders so that the situation could be solved as swiftly as possible and he could go back to the quietness of the Diogenes, without chocolate eyes observing him. His brother and John were throwing a fit, well Sherlock was throwing a fit, because they were investigating the removed case too, but the main suspect was the mistress of a high-ranking Russian politician and a diplomatic incident had to be avoided. Mycroft was not listening carefully at what Lestrade and his brother were saying, but at a certain point he was almost sure that he has heard something about courting women. A question about the best way of doing that? Why -- sweet Lord – was his brother interest in courting women now? Mycroft gave his last instructions and closed the call, looking puzzled at the three men.

“I tell you Sherlock, and I’ve some first-hand experience in this! If you really want to be over-romantic with a woman, you‘ve first of all to kiss her hand!” Gregory was passionately explaining.

Sherlock was analysing the inspector’s face and retorted, “Kissing the hand, Lestrade? Why should I do something so ridiculous?”

Greg looked in his direction and smiled, forcing Mycroft’s heart to skip a beat. “Mycroft, come here please! Your brother needs a demonstration,” the DI said, waving his hand.

Mycroft used all his self-control not to move a single unnecessary muscle and betray his attraction for the DI in front of his brother. “How can I be of service, Inspector?”

“It’s Greg, come on, we’ve known each other for so long. Your brother here was falsely courting our suspect and wanted to do a gentlemanly romantic act. Well, the case is closed for us but….”. Greg slowly took Mycroft’s hand and, in the redhead’s horror, brought it to his lips and kissed his knuckles, locking his eyes with Mycroft’s. The elder Holmes did not know whether the warmth he was seeing in the DI eyes was real or a hallucination created by his lovesick mind. 

Before the Government official could turn completely pink, Greg released his hand and turned back to Sherlock.“You see, like this!”, the policeman said and Mycroft silently thanked all existing deities that Sherlock was indeed considering the whole act pretty seriously because he kept on asking questions and ignored him and his turmoil.

***

Mycroft slowly woke up, feeling discomfort everywhere and his brain in a foggy state. He was sure he was not lying in his bed, the sheets were too rough and he was not in his pyjama. All of a sudden he realized bandages covered his torso and he smelt disinfectant. And … oh! … Someone was holding his hand. Although all his body was screaming at him to go back to sleep, he forced himself to open his eyes. A hospital room.

Mycroft’s brain returned partly online and furnished him vague memories of a kidnap attempt, himself kept hostage for few hours, his security intervention and a random bullet hitting his chest. He also remembered a male voice shouting his name. A male voice, that in his fantasies belonged to a certain police officer, who… in that very moment was sleeping on the armchair close to his bed, head on the armrest and one hand on his.

Mycroft looked at the man in wonder. He was sure he was dreaming it. Unfortunately, in the movement he made to turn towards Greg, Mycroft’s pain spiked and the redhead loudly moaned, causing a stirring in the sleepy man who after few seconds opened his eyes. Greg blinked a couple of times and gifted Mycroft of a blinding smile. Affection was clear in his eyes and Mycroft could only stare at the impossible unfolding in front of him.

Before he could even try to speak, a nurse entered and started to manipulate his IV line. “Mr Holmes, everything is all right. You will recover soon. But you need to sleep,” she murmured. Mycroft did not need any encouragement for it and quickly returned in Morpheus’ arms, but before blackness engulfed him, he could have bet that someone was gently kissing his cheek.

***

He would kill Anthea. Fire her. Deport her. She knew he did not want to be disturbed in his office, today in particular, and by DI Lestrade above all! He could only contain damage now, because the silver-haired man was already at the door looking at him.

Mycroft put on his best blank face. “Good morning Detective Inspector”.

“Good morning. It’s Greg, by the way.” Greg strode quickly toward his desk while rummaging in a big plastic bag he had with him. He finally found what he was looking for and proudly held a package in front of the redhead. “Happy birthday, Mycroft!”

Mycroft clenched his jaw, registering that his mouth was hanging open due to the surprise. Who had betrayed him and revealed his birth date? He stayed frozen for a while, but when he noticed the discomfort developing in the DI eyes, he managed a “Why are you giving me this, Gregory?”

The policeman shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nervously, and asked to the floor “Why do you think I do?”

“For the same reason you steal kisses?” As soon as Mycroft realized what he had said, he wanted to push the panic button located under his desk, better an invasion of armed men than utter shame.

Incredibly, his inadvertent braveness was rewarded by a smirk, softened by kind eyes. “So, you noticed. You can’t fool a Holmes.”

Mycroft swallowed and nodded.

“And…” Greg continued, a hint of insecurity creeping in his voice. He rushed to finish the sentence, “Would you like a non-stolen one?”

Mycroft could only nod again.

“Are you sure?” Greg teased him.

Mycroft clenched his fists and…stomped with his foot on the floor. “Yes!”

A sun-bright smile was the reaction. Big calloused hands approached him and were gently placed on his cheeks, cradling his face. Mycroft felt his face turn red and hot, but he did not care. Lips softly brushed his and he felt the tip of a tongue touching his mouth. Mycroft threw caution and reserve out of the window and entangled his fingers in the silver locks, bringing Greg closer to him, while opening his mouth for the policeman’s exploration. In his utter embarrassment, his body was responding very quickly and unambiguously to the attention and gentle strokes it was receiving.

They needed to break the kiss to breath and, panting, Greg asked “So, I don’t need to steal kisses anymore?”

Mycroft shook his head.

A devilish grin appeared in Greg’s face. “So, can I kiss you also somewhere else?”

 

_The British Government would like to clarify that DCI Gregory Lestrade afterwards has kissed him in many other locations, but if the author of this fic does not want to be deported somewhere uncomfortable, he would prefer privacy to be maintained._


End file.
